This is a Recording

I’m sorry the connection you are trying to maintain has been broken. Please stop trying to understand it and just know that the pain will remain.

Editors-Pick-The-Phantom-of-the-Operator[1]

In my heart this is what I heard. It played in that generic recorded voice, when you dial a number that has been disconnected.

My tears began to flow faster than the swiftest moving flash flood. I’m thinking OMG, really?

It all began with a misunderstanding. I was supposed to meet a friend at one place but I went to another, both have the same name. In a way I was happy I was in the wrong place because at this point, I was a mess and I’m not fond of people seeing me in such an emotional state. The place I went to was right outside my old neighborhood, the place where I was the  happiest, the place where my husband and I began raising our family, the place of countless birthday celebrations and family gatherings, the last place I believe my husband was healthy. As I turned onto the street that runs parallel to the subdivision without warning the flash flood of tears began.

I never expected so much pain to be so close to the surface. Even if I had known, I never would have expected it to be released at that time, because of that location. I’ve been back there before without incident. But then again, grief is an unpredicatable bitch.  I managed to pulled myself together. Again, somewhat relieved to be in the wrong place. I didn’t want to have to face my friend that way. My thought then became since everything happens for a reason, what was the point of this? I began shaking my head as if it would make it all go away,  I just stuffed the thoughts and feeling into their ever-expanding compartment, and tried to move on with my day instead of delving deeper into the pit of pain that I so desperately wanted to escape.

I find myself now, wanting to be in my friends presence, because  I knew if anyone could make me laugh and take my mind off of the pain it would be him, although, I decided not to mention it to him. True to who he is, I had many laughs about being in the wrong place. The laughs, allowed the painful thoughts to flow to the back of my mind. And, they remained there, briefly, only to resurface at the craziest moment. I tried so hard to blink them back, but again, flash floods are powerful! Grief is powerful. Painful emotions are powerful. I excused myself before things became really awkward. While pulling myself together I find myself asking again, what am I supposed to get from this? I pulled myself together and was able to move forward with my day, but even now as I type this I have tissue handy.

Grief is a pissed off bitch with a vendetta. She sits back in the shadows like a stalker just waiting for that moment when you least expect it, and surprise; she jumps out and throws you off your stride. The restraining order you threw at her means nothing, she just laughs at your futile attempts to feel safe and protected. Trying to protect yourself from grief is about as  productive as trying to send a text from your moms old rotary phone. So I just learned  feel it, and keep moving forward with my life, in such a way that Chuck would be proud of me.

…the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service, please hang up and try your call again, this is a recording.

 

images[8]

Advertisements

Chitty Chitty Bang

…and after I was shot in the head my will to survive kicked in like Adam Vinatieri at clutch time! Although it took a second for me to realize what had happened, I could literally feel the adrenalin when it began its amped up coursing through my veins forcing me to move. Survival mode washed over me like a wave moving from head to toe. The splatter from the head shot distorted my vision but I could see there was movement all around me and I knew the general direction the shot came from. Instinctually,  I began to wildly return fire shooting at anything that moved. Shots were ringing out from every direction. I could hear them whizzing by narrowly missing me. I could feel the slight vibration in the ground from all of the shots that fell short of their intended target, me. I knew I had to move if I was going to survive this. Amazingly enough, mindless tv watching suddenly became my instruction manual, cover fire! As I laid the cover fire down, I started running, at some points low crawling my way to more substantial refuge. In my ears and head was the percussion section of the best HBCU band playing in slow motion. In the distance, I could hear footsteps and rounds being fired again in slow motion. I finally managed to take cover behind a pile of tires. Just as I pulled my legs behind the tires the sound of a what seemed to be an entire basketball team hitting the hardwood, each dribbling like a professional. But there was no hardwood, and no basketballs, these were rounds hitting the tires, all gunning (no pun intended) for me. The percussion section continues. I can feel the aftermath of the head shot as I wiped my forehead.  I said a prayer and raised my gun this time taking aim and fired several shots. At the release of the last round I heard, “Shit, I’m hit!” The percussion section pounded even louder and slower until I felt like I was being cocooned in the deep slow rhythm. My blinking slowed and my breathing seemed even slower than the blinking. I heard behind me, “She’s coming! She’s coming! Shoot!” I turned to my left and saw a figure cloaked in yellow running in my direction. The adrenaline raised my gun and fired, again and again! Still, the yellow figure advanced. I took aim and shot again. I heard screams, and it seems they encouraged me to pull the trigger again and again. It was as though my right index had a mind of its own. I fell to my belly still pulling the trigger, one final scream and it was then that I heard, what was the sound of sweet relief. “TIME! TIME!” When I looked from around the side of the tires I saw people walking across the field, hands and weapons in the air. It was only then that I dared to stand. I raised my weapon and hands as well.  As we all headed towards the exit of the paintball field there was excited chatter about how much fun that was and how those little bitty balls pack a pretty good punch. I loved my first round of paintball!! I’ve been wanting to try that forever! And it was  fun but also a bit scary! Again those little balls pack a bit of punch.

During one of the games, I’ll be damned if I didn’t run out of CO2! I had to leave the field and reload. Aargh!! I missed most of that round.

Next round we were pitted against a crew of prepubescent and pubescent gun wielding, entrenched veterans! These little boys meant business. It was a game of, “Head and Chest.” And that means you must get shot in the head or chest to be eliminated. WTH? Nope, what other games ya got! But the little pubes were all in! We eventually gave in and agreed to play. So we played and lost, and that’s all I have to say about that. Lol. Then we played them again this time on a different field. It took a while and ALL of our balls but we won that round. But let me tell you a bit about that. We formulated a plan. Yes, we were plotting on the kids, lol. So when they called go, we rushed the field to get as close to them  as possible right out of the blocks. And it worked but not without a few close calls, on my behalf. See, I wore my contacts but maybe should have worn my glasses. Two of my teammates were in front of me and I thought, I was aiming at the opponents. I think they call that, “Friendly Fire.” Gives a deer in headlights look. LMAO I didn’t actually hit them, more like made them wonder if the balls had started ricocheting.  Giggles! We won that round as well.
I really enjoyed paintball. I’ll definitely be taking the kids, LMAO!

PicMonkey Collage